


The Young Ones Shouldn't Be Afraid

by scumbaganarchy



Series: Once In Every Lifetime [1]
Category: The Young Ones (TV 1982)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Death Mention, Gen, Mild Hurt/Comfort, but it gets a bit more hopeful, post summer holiday, slightly angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-04-05 17:23:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19044970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scumbaganarchy/pseuds/scumbaganarchy
Summary: What if the bus crash wasn't the end? Is this alternative any better?Rick hadn't taken the time to comprehend what the events of that fateful day leading up to the cliff had actually meant. Now he has to and it isn't looking so good.





	The Young Ones Shouldn't Be Afraid

Rick missed his record player.

There had been a lot attached to it before Vyvyan smashed it up; a lot of memories. Sometimes, listening to another round of ‘Devil Woman’ or ‘Summer Holiday’ had felt like the only thing saving him from insanity in the crazy student house. Looking back on it now, in the miserable evening hours that passed far more slowly than they ought to for someone of Rick’s age, he realised that perhaps the record player hadn’t quite succeeded there. Still, that didn’t matter. What mattered was that it had been a present from them. A present for doing well - alright, not well, maybe okay - in his O Levels.

Of course, there were also other things that Rick missed: the smell of actual food; warm, clean blankets and bedding; comfortable seats with cushions. In fact, if he thought about it hard enough, which he often did these days, Rick hated his life now. He had absolutely no security or safety, no one looking out for him at all apart from himself. He was screwed, wasn’t he?

This nightmare was supposed to have ended at some point. At some point, he was supposed to have been guaranteed actual food, warm sheets and comfortable seats again. He was supposed to get back some love despite his flaws and protection despite his failings. Everyone needed that, especially in Thatcher’s Britain. Rick was unpopular - he knew that, really, it was just that he had been forced to accept the fact fully recently. Without a doubt, there wasn’t a silver of a hope within him that anyone would offer him solace now that the only people to ever try were-

He was injured. Though they had all got off remarkably unscathed from their somewhat foolish exploit, that didn’t change the fact that none of them were at their prime. Rick often wondered if they ever would be again. It was almost poetical in the fashion that his spirits, flying ever so high before the crash, had plummeted down along with the wretched bus when it had toppled over that cliff.

There they all were: hurt and poor and homeless and talentless with next to no qualifications. The streets were cold and funerals were expensive-

Rick shut his eyes quickly, scrunching them up against the traitorous tears that threatened to fall; against the truth of the matter, which was that things were never ever going to get better ever again. How long would it be until the guys deserted him too? What reason did they have to stick together now?

“Uh, Rick?”

It was Neil, that useless hippie. Rick had never liked Neil right from the moment he first laid eyes on him. There was probably a reason for this but he was damned if he was going to give into his stupid, girly emotions now. Especially not for Neil.

“What?” he snapped back instead, a tad defensively, turning his head to the left to the face the corner of the alley they were camped out in.

He wanted to blink his sorrows away in private. As if it were that easy.

“Nothing, man,” Neil replied, almost affronted, “It’s just - you’re shaking. Are you, like, cold? You can have one of the blankets soon if you are.”

The blankets. Rick laughed bitterly and turned back to him. The blankets they had - one of which was wrapped tightly around Neil’s shoulders and torso, it not being long enough to cover the length of his legs - were nothing more than flimsy, dirt encrusted scraps from a skip next to a junk yard. One of the guys had uncovered them during their early days on the streets, not too long ago in truth although it certainly felt like an eternity.

“I don’t want one, I’m not cold,” Rick told him hostilely, refusing to meet Neil’s typically depressed gaze lest something about his own inner turmoil leak out, “They’ll most likely give us all wabies or something anyway.”

That’s wight. Just keep talking bollocks like you usually do, spotty, you can’t let them know. If they see you like this then they see everything! You might as well be dead! Just like your-

Rick’s conscience had never been terribly kind to him at the best of times - nowadays, it seemed, though it was true the bite in its tone had weakened with the hopelessness of their situation somewhat, its messages hurt twice as much. Rick let out a strange, strangled sort of sob and immediately coughed to cover it up. He jerked further away from Neil and hastily faced the alley corner once more.

“I’m just tired, Neil, aren’t you?” he whispered, not trusting his voice to hold out at a louder volume.

Neil hummed in agreement and nothing more was said on the matter. That was just the way things were now. Rick wrapped his arms around himself and allowed his resolve to crumble momentarily, mouth twisting downwards in misery as the bad thoughts enveloped him. No one would end this...

Except...

“Rick.”

There was a shadow hanging over him suddenly - a real one, this time. Rick trembled in defeat and forced his face to harden with indifference. Not now! Why couldn’t he come back later when everything wasn’t quite so overwhelming? He delighted in it, didn’t he? Picking just the right moment when he somehow knew he had an advantage. Tormenting Rick, torturing him like a corpse in one of his medical classes. Like a corpse. Like them. They.

“Vyvyan.”

Rick said his name softly. He was trying as hard as he could not to lose it completely and provoke an attack. All his senses were sharpened and ready. Well, as ready as they could be. Unusually, Rick realised in his anxious state, the normal tone of disgust or loathing had been absent from the other’s voice. He sounded almost calm and that... that was even more unsettling.

“Budge up, you bastard,” Vyvyan muttered gruffly, breaking the mood and restoring order to the universe. 

Rick obliged silently and shrunk as far into the corner as was physically possible. Shuddering at the cool, sliminess of the walls, an absurd thought about how different to aeroplane wallpaper they were entered his mixed up mind. He cringed. What was Vyvyan doing anyway? Sitting next to him to destroy any possibility of relaxation at all? At least, he supposed, there was now someone between him and Neil.

Rick just wanted to carry on as if nothing had happened, letting wave after wave of despair crash into him until it subsided and he could sleep. However, it seemed Vyvyan had already rejected this idea for the next thing Rick felt was a hard nudge to his right arm. Vyvyan had never exactly been gentle.

“Put the blanket on.”

There was that eerie calmness again. It offended Rick a little; as if this whole situation wasn’t awful and unfair and demanded everyone raise their voices in protest against it, not that Rick had actually done any of that. He twisted around so that he could see the filthy object on offer: it was their bigger one, the one with the torn ends that had gone stiff.

“Just keep it, Vyvyan,” he sighed.

This, apparently, wasn’t the right answer. Rick barely had the time to register the way Vyvyan’s orange hair flashed dangerously in the dying rays of the sun when he moved before the blanket was inexplicably wrapped around the both of them. He suddenly noticed how the other’s breathing was producing small puffs of visible air, just like a dragon. In fact, he was too. Maybe he was cold. Rick’s fingers ached at him then, begging him to give them cover unless he wanted his extremities frozen. Slowly, he moved himself closer to Vyvyan and his considerable body heat and let out a shaky breath.

“What are you doing?” Rick asked with scepticism, despite the fact that he was the one who had just huddled closer for warmth.

This hadn’t been how he had foreseen the evening going. Did he really want to be wrapped up tight with Vyvyan, of all people? The only person Rick knew who was more violent than the pigs. Vyvyan didn’t look pleased with his questioning.

“I’m trying to be nice to you, you poof. Can’t you be grateful for once in your life?” he snapped, the calmness in his voice straining, “I’m beginning to remember why I don’t normally bother.”

Vyvyan scrunched his face up in mild frustration - or was it to ensure the muscles still worked in the cold? Rick couldn’t really tell. His own face crumpled before he bit his lip and managed to get it together. This was ridiculous! He and Vyvyan argued and fought all the time; it was as easy as breathing. No, he just needed to deescalate the situation and end their conversation. Then he would be okay.

“I- I’m sorry, Vyvyan. Thank you for the blanket,” Rick apologised quickly, looking down. 

Damn! Why did his voice have to crack and why had his shaking grown worse? Vyvyan reached for his chin, forcing him to look into those intense blue eyes. Rick winced and couldn’t help but sniff. He was going to break, he just knew it.

“Listen to me, you girly bastard,” Vyvyan told him very seriously, causing Rick’s eyes to widen in a mixture of fear and uncertainty at what he was going to say, “We’re going to get through this, alright? You, me, Michael and Neil - we will.”

Rick was about to nod in agreement by default when he remembered that he and Vyvyan hardly ever agreed on anything and therefore what had just been said must have been complete bollocks. Instead, he shook his head - quite difficult considering the firm grip Vyvyan still had on his chin.

“But how can you say that? Nobody cares about us! Not anymore! There’s no one-” 

Rick cut himself off with a shudder and closed his eyes for a second or two. His voice was getting annoyingly uncontrollable and he wasn’t particularly keen on what he had been about to say. This wasn’t the manner in which he was supposed to converse with Vyvyan, they were meant to just insult each other. Still, Rick was almost too sad to care.

“There never has been anyone,” Vyvyan amended, continuing in his serious and quieter voice. He removed his hand from Rick’s chin and frowned, “Are you-”

“No I’m not!” Rick snapped at him, immediately turning his face the other way to rub furiously at the tear trail making its way down his left cheek, “And you’re wrong! You might have never had anyone but I did! Two people, actually-”

Once again, he couldn’t go on.

Oh God! This was it: his parents were dead. They were, weren’t they? No one was coming to save him.

Rick finally collapsed into sobs. He tried - in vain - to hush them and stop it but his body kept bloody shaking more and more and more and his mind kept reeling with sorrow, endless sorrow. He wasn’t going to be able to bury them properly, was he? He didn’t even know what had happened to them! He was their only child and he had disappointed them, he just knew he had! If only he could see them alive again... just once!

Yes, Rick missed his record player. More than that, though, he missed the people who had given it to him.

Through his distress, he became aware of Vyvyan wrapping an arm around him. In no position to fight it, Rick let it happen. The world truly had ended when Vyvyan Basterd was offering Rick Pratt comfort, hadn’t it!?!

“Vyv?”

The groggy voice of Mike, who had clearly just woken up, echoed from somewhere opposite the boys. Obviously, he had one side of the alley to himself. It was only fair.

“Is- Jesus, is Rick okay?” he asked, evidently worried.

If anything, this made Rick sob harder. He cared. They cared. It was nigh on impossible for him to respond in anyway due to the tirade of tears he was being consumed by but the knowledge that maybe - just maybe - he wasn’t as alone as he had first thought meant more than he could say in that moment.

“Yeah, it’s alright,” he heard Vyvyan reply. He still sounded calm, “I’ve got this, Michael.”

Under ordinary circumstances such a statement would have made Rick scoff. As it was, it simply confused him, though in a good way. Why was Vyvyan being so nice to him? The more cynical part of him wanted to get to the bottom of this but the currently stronger part of him, the part of him that was weeping, reminded him with a nasty jerk that this wasn’t possible at the moment. He needed to say something.

“My- my parents-” Rick choked out. His vision became blurry with fresh tears as their faces flashed before him, “My parents are both dead.”

Strangely, despite what every work of fiction Rick could recall seemed to suggest, saying this out loud didn’t make the pain any worse or any less; nor did it verify the truth and make it palpable. At least he had said it. That was something. He continued to whimper, feeling rather pathetic in front of the others. Whether they cared for him or not, with his senses returning Rick was beginning to think that such a dramatic outpouring of emotion meant that he had really put his foot in it now, surely!

Vyvyan tightened his grip around Rick, which at first made him nervous. However, he quickly discovered that he was in fact only ensuring that the blanket was still secure, nothing sinister. Once more Rick was hit by the weird feeling of being this close to Vyvyan and not fighting. Even if they weren’t outright attacking each other, they were always making comments. Shouldn’t he be getting called a crybaby? Or worse? Or had he been right earlier: did they all care that he was sad? Nice of them considering he hadn’t exactly hidden the fact that he was planning to ditch them all before their circumstances had taken a turn for the worst. Whatever the truth was, Vyvyan’s body warmth overrode Rick’s thought patterns. He sighed.

“I’m sorry,” Vyvyan said after a while.

There was something different about his voice. It had gotten raspier. There was a reluctance in his words, as if he didn’t really want to dig this deeply into things but felt that he should. Rick looked up, his spotty face probably blotchy and shiny from all the crying. Vyvyan went on as if he hadn’t noticed and Rick watched the way the light of dusk framed his jaw as he spoke.

“Look - don’t get me wrong - I still don’t like you very much. In fact, I still think you’re a whiny, little git,” he clarified and then frowned, as if he hadn’t meant to word it like that, “I mean, it’s just the stuff you usually complain about is stupid and annoying and not-”

Vyvyan stopped abruptly and there was silence in the alley. Rick reached up to wipe his eyes.

“Not the fact that my parents are dead and we’re all homeless?” he offered, feeling more in control of his emotions.

“Yeah,” Vyvyan intoned, nodding matter-of-factly.

They were quiet for sometime again. Mike, who had been listening discreetly to make sure Vyvyan’s idea of handling things didn’t involve killing Rick, lay back against the wall in relief.

“Do you want the blanket, Mike?” Neil asked suddenly from beside the entwined duo.

He looked and sounded quite miserable, not that any of them had ever seen him especially happy. It was obvious by his shivering that the blanket really wasn’t doing a sufficient job. Still, despite the cold, Mike thought following Vyvyan’s surprising example would be kindest.

“Nah, keep it for yourself,” he told him, “I’m smaller, there’s less of me to freeze.”

Neil gaped in shock - clearly, he had been expecting the other guy to leap at the chance to use the blanket, even if it was mostly useless. He nodded in gratitude and almost smiled.

“Thanks, Mike.”

Then he began a fruitless attempt at making the blanket cover all of him.

It was strange what such a hopeless situation could do to four people who spent most of their time previously trading snide remarks and arguing. They had banded together; they had found that they actually cared for one another, apparently. It was them against everyone else at the end of the day, wasn’t it?

“What was it you said we were?” Vyvyan asked Rick, scrunching his face up in concentration this time, “Right before I - uh - drove the bus off the cliff?”

They all shuddered at the memory and Rick felt Vyvyan cringe in whichever emotion he possessed that was closest to guilt. He sat up somewhat, taking this opportunity to appear as though he hadn’t been almost-very-nearly snuggling Vyvyan, before giving in and pushing his insecurities aside so that he could lean properly against him and conserve his energy. From the corner of Rick’s eye, he saw the ghost of a smile flit across Vyvyan’s lips. Maybe his bedside manner wasn’t as shit as they had all assumed it was?

But, anyway, he had been asked a question.

“I said we were big bottomed anarchists,” Rick replied, snorting as he recalled how animated he had been on the bus journey.

Vyvyan shook his head. He was sure there had been something else, something more familiar...

“No, before that,” he pressed.

“He said we were young ones,” Neil cut in, having stopped trying to make himself more comfortable and accepted that this was as good as it was going to get.

The other three’s eyebrows raised in shock that Neil had remembered such a thing.

“Yes. That’s - that’s right,” Rick agreed, which was a totally new sensation for him.

He hadn’t realised Neil ever paid attention to the revolutionary things he said! It wasn’t as if any of them had ever paid attention to Neil and the drivel he came out with. Still, if he was going to become more interesting from now on-

“Yes! That was it!” Vyvyan declared in the boisterous voice the world was used to.

He grinned and Rick was only faintly surprised that this brought a smile to his own face. He was mixed up, wasn’t he? If they were back in the house and his parents weren’t dead - say, perhaps, Neil was serving them some more disgusting lentil casserole and Mike was reading the paper - he wouldn’t be glad to see Vyvyan grin at all, would he? This was only happening because their situation was so strange.... wasn’t it?

“Where have I heard that before?”

Vyvyan was asking him something else now and Rick found himself quickly pushing the previous concerns aside. He had to suppress an eye roll when what had just been said sunk in. How could anyone not know that? He was about to inform the group of this vital piece of trivia when Mike beat him to it.

“It’s the name of one of Cliff Richard’s songs,” he explained, “Rick had it on vinyl.”

This was true. In fact, it was one of Rick’s favourites. He felt something akin to happiness bloom inside his chest that his housemates had noticed this, albeit if only by accident or through his excessive playing of it.

“There’s a line in that song that I think is important, wight about now,” he speculated.

The familiar pain of grief was beginning to tug at his heart again. Vyvyan, as if somehow sensing this, gave Rick a gentle squeeze. The other two looked at him expectantly. He coughed awkwardly.

“It’s just... Cliff says the young ones shouldn’t be afwaid,” he said.

There were a few seconds of quiet whilst they all contemplated this. Only the close but far-off sounding London traffic could be heard from their lonely corner of existence. The young ones shouldn’t be afraid?

“Well I reckon ol’ Cliff was right this time,” Mike spoke up at last - he was their sort of leader, after all, “Lads, I promise you, we’re gonna be perfectly fine. First thing tomorrow we’ll find a telephone and ring Neil’s parents, we must have enough money for a call by now. When they answer - and they will - Neil’s gonna go and live with them-”

“And so are you guys!” Neil interrupted indignantly, seemingly not happy with the idea of being the only one off the streets.

“Neil, that’s very nice of you to offer but Rick, Vyv and I didn’t exactly make a good first impression on them now, did we?” Mike pointed out, “We wouldn’t want Mrs Pye being scared to watch ‘The Good Life’ in her own home.”

“Bloody show,” Vyvyan chuckled.

Neil, however, was shaking his head.

“No, no, I’m not going to just stay with my parents if none of you have anywhere to go. That would be, like, so uncool and heavy, man,” he argued, a look of horror upon his face at the mere thought of it.

Considering the abuse he was showered with daily, this was quite a selfless statement. It made Rick feel ever so slightly bad but not bad enough to speak up. Neil went on.

“I’ll convince them, right? They might vote Tory but they do have hearts,” he assured them.

Pfft! That sounded unlikely! Rick was about to scoff until he remembered who else had voted Tory. The derision died in his throat.

“Thanks, Neil,” Vyvyan answered for everyone, causing stunned slow blinks, “What?” he asked.

Mike shook his head in disbelief and continued with his master plan.

“Alright, alright. As soon as we’ve got a roof over our heads we can begin to deal with the big issues: firstly, we need dough and you and I know what that means,” he warned them, “Second, our grades are worth less than these blankets and no one with half a brain is gonna employ us.”

That was very true. Plus, only Vyvyan had really had any kind of career path set out for him when they were at Scumbag and even he was scuppered now. What kind of job was Rick supposed to do in the long run? He had probably overestimated the scope of the market for anarchic youth members with defunct degrees in Sociology. Still, Mike wasn’t done.

“Thirdly - and most importantly - we’ve got to sort out Rick’s parents’ funeral and some kind of memorial for SPG,” he finished more sensitively, aware that not too long ago Rick had been weeping over this first fact.

Vyvyan’s eyes misted up for a moment but he managed to force himself to be okay. Rick watched cautiously and gave him what he hoped would be interpreted as a comforting nudge. He had almost forgotten about SPG after everything else but knew that, deep down, the hamster had meant a lot to Vyvyan. He hadn’t seen him ever cry for anyone or anything else before or since. Then something dawned on him.

“Wait - you all want to help me with the funeral?” he asked in a higher pitch than he would have liked.

Mike sat forwards and removed his sunglasses from where they had been resting above his head.

“Did you have anyone else in mind?” he asked, lightly joking.

A huge sense of relief washed over Rick’s body. They weren’t going to abandon him - thank Cliff - they weren’t going to abandon him!

“N-no, I just didn’t expect-”

And there he was, tearing up like an idiot! Vyvyan rubbed his side in an attempt to calm him down.

“Don’t start crying on me again, you girl,” he warned him, half serious.

Rick laughed a watery laugh and brought a hand up to wipe at his face.

“Sorry, Vyv-” he started but was cut off by Vyvyan taking ahold of his mobile hand and wiping the stray tears from his face for him.

Oh. Rick blushed but didn’t draw away; he liked how cosy Vyvyan felt, just the two of them huddling for warmth. Vyvyan grinned at his reaction - a wicked grin - and his eyes flashed mischievously before he turned back to Mike.

“Sounds like a brilliant plan, Michael,” he agreed.

“Yeah, we can just take it, like, one step at a time,” Neil added, nodding.

That would be easier than going it alone, wouldn’t it? The group decided it was probably high time they got some sleep after this. They were all exhausted and the sun had already set. Rick stifled a yawn and closed his eyes; night on the streets was his least favourite time but at least with Vyvyan’s arm wrapped around him he felt a bit safer - not something he had ever thought he would feel about Vyvyan.

“Goodnight, guys,” Neil mumbled, followed by a chorus of similar responses.

Rick let himself snuggle Vyvyan’s side and was pleased that he acknowledged this by pulling him closer. No more words were said but the four boys’ thoughts were more or less the same:

The young ones shouldn’t be afraid.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is the first thing I've ever posted on here so I hope it was okay (I originally posted it on Tumblr). Thanks for taking the time to read it, hopefully more TYO stuff should be on the way!
> 
> *A segment of this is now available in the second issue of the TYO fanzine 'Scumbag Monthly'.*


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